Conspiracy

by Lady Grace Cavendish

  Inside were little wrapped gifts, which the squires started throwing to all the dryads and naiads. Lady Jane and Carmina had an unseemly scuffle over one package with a bracelet in it, hissing, “It's mine!” and, “No, it's mine! I saw it first!” like children.

  I completely missed the one thrown at me, but someone picked it up for me and I saw that it was John, bowing and smiling as he handed it to me. “My lady, here is your trinket,” he said.

  And then I heard Ellie shouting, “My lady! My Lady Grace, 'ere—quick!”

  Her voice sounded quite desperate, so I curtsied to John and, sighing, turned to where Ellie had managed to sidle round the room. She had her hand to her mouth and I wondered why. Then, as I made my way over to her, I saw that she was using a piece of scrap cloth to dab at a really nasty cut on her lip.

  “What happened?” I asked. “Who hurt you?”

  I couldn't hear her reply, because at that moment there was a big blast of music, and a choir of boys started to sing of how the stars would fall for shame in comparison with the beauty of the Queen of the May, the fair Eliza.

  I drew closer. Ellie had something in her other hand—it looked like a bit of bark with something glittering in it.

  “There's glass in the bear, broken glass …,” she said urgently.

  For a moment I just stared stupidly. What was she saying? I looked at the thing she was waving, and suddenly realized it was the bear's ear from the subtlety—with Ellie's toothmarks in it—and, glittering in the middle, several shards of broken glass!

  I felt my back and belly go icy-cold with horror. I picked it up to take a closer look. There was no mistake—long, sharp pieces of glass were poking out of the sugary almond mixture.

  “Look! It's filli of glass!” said Ellie, taking the cloth away from her mouth. “It really hurts. Stop the Queen from eating it….”

  The world seemed to slow down as I span round to look for the Queen. I stared across the Hall. There was Sarah, very graciously enthroned under her Cloth of Estate as the Queen of the May, with Prince Sven standing handsomely beside her. She was thoroughly enjoying herself, being Queen for a day, and she was laughing as the squires paraded towards her with the head of the bear. One of them used a fancy Italian fork to cut a slice from the subtlety and offer it to her—

  I shouted, “Stop, don't eat it!”

  But the choir was still singing. She couldn't hear a word. And she loves sweetmeats.

  I picked up my skirts, satin leaves and streamers and all, and ran between all the servants, the courtiers, and the ladies, to where Lady Sarah sat happily, about to accept the forkful of marchpane.

  “Stop!” I shouted again, as she took it from the fork.

  A few people were turning now, but they were laughing, thinking this was part of the masque. So I threw myself at Sarah, nearly slipping on some silk flowers, and whacked the bit of marchpane out of her hand so that it flew across the room.

  If I hadn't been a girl—and therefore not as much of a threat to the Queen as a man—I think I might have been killed! All the gentlemen of the Queen's Guard had their swords out to defend Her Majesty; all the courtiers and the Swedish gentlemen drew as well, and the nearest two gentlemen shouted and reached for me. I didn't want to blurt out why I had done it, though, because I felt sure the Queen would want to keep it quiet, just as she had all the other so-called accidents.

  Sarah was staring at me, holding the hand I had whacked. And then, as I looked at her, an idea suddenly came to me. I put my hand to my forehead, said loudly, “Oh dear, I feel very dizzy!” and dropped to the floor in the dramatic swoon we had practised earlier.

  Sarah leaned over in astonishment as I collapsed, and I whispered to her, “Don't eat the bear, it's got glass in it!” and then let my head fall back and shut my eyes.

  I lay still, listening hard. First, I could hear all the swords being hastily put away, and then Mary, and someone else, wearing Sarah's kirtle—but oh, of course, it was the Queen, pretending to be Sarah-bent over me.

  The Queen was now in a furious temper with me for making such a scene. “Your Majesty,” she said to Sarah, in cold ringing tones that should have given the game away to anyone with half a brain. “I shall go with her and see if the cool air amends her humours.”

  “Thank you, your, um, my lady,” said Sarah, with as much dignity as she could muster.

  Two of the gentlemen gripped hands, seated me on them, and carried me out of the Hall to the greensward outside, where they laid me down.

  “She will be well enough,” said the Queen. “Pray go back and join the dancing.”

  They went, because it would never occur to anyone not to do as she says, even when she's pretending to be ordinary.

  “I know perfectly well there is nothing wrong with you, Grace,” growled the Queen to me. “What in the Devil's name was all that mummery about? And incidentally, do not even think of joining a troupe of players, for you will starve in a month.”

  I opened my eyes and still couldn't see, so I rearranged my dryad's mask and sat up a bit. Mary Shelton and the Queen were both looking at me quizzically.

  “I had to do it, “four Majesty,” I said. “There's broken glass in that marchpane subtlety and I had to stop poor Lady Sarah from biting into it.”

  “What?” exclaimed the Queen.

  I showed her the bit of subtlety Ellie had showed me. In fact, in my mad dash across the Hall, Ihad gripped it so tightly I had cut myself on it.

  The Queen took it from me and looked closely. “Good God!” she said. “How did you get this?”

  “Urn … it fell off the subtlety by accident, and my friend Ellie—”

  “Never mind,” whispered the Queen quickly. “It's enough that you found it out. And although I wasn't very impressed with your swoon, in the heat of the moment it was quite a clever thing to do. Now, Grace, you must find out who is doing these things and quickly, for tomorrow, before we leave, the Swedish Prince will ask if he may continue his suit. I shall therefore escort you to your chamber, and then I shall go back and explain that you are now resting, but that you were taken with a sudden megrim and thought there was a spider upon the sweetmeat. Meanwhile, you must find out the source of these outrages.”

  I was sad to miss the rest of the masque, but relieved that the Queen was trusting me to investigate further.

  “Shall I stay with her?” asked Mary Shelton, who hadn't heard what the Queen had been saying.

  “No, child,” said the Queen patiently. “You must escort me back to the Hall. And I will tell Mrs. Champernowne that I feel Grace should rest alone until the masque ends.” She then turned to me. “Use the time wisely, Grace.”

  I nodded. Mary Shelton helped me up and then she and the Queen escorted me up the spiral stairs to the Maids of Honour, our chamber.

  When Mary and the disguised Queen had gone safely back to the Hall, I crept down the stairs to look for Ellie. I found her in the courtyard and explained what the Queen wanted me to do. Unfortunately, neither of us really knew where to start. We sat together in silence for a few minutes, thinking.

  Suddenly, it occurred to me that John might be of help in finding out who had put the glass in the subtlety. After all, he had been around the Banqueting House when he found me inside—mayhap he had seen others coming and going from the tent also.

  “Ellie,” I said, “could you ask John Hull to come out and talk to me?”

  She nodded and hurried into the Hall.

  She seemed to be taking an awfully long time. While I waited, I wracked my brains to try and think who could be doing the mischief.

  When Ellie came back, she was alone. “E's not there,” she said. “I looked carefully.”

  Perchance he had felt ill and gone back to his tent. All of the Earl of Leicester's attendants were camping near the lake, so that the Ladies-in-Waiting, the Maids of Honour, and the Privy Councillors, like Secretary Cecil, could sleep in the rooms in the castle and be near the Queen.

  Ellie an
d I headed over to the little encampment by the lake to try and find John.

  It was quite deserted, except for a pageboy, who was supposedly on watch to prevent any courtiers from thieving, but was in fact fast asleep, Curled up by a fire.

  I woke him up. “Do you know where John Hull is?” I asked, and he pointed at one of the outermost tents.

  Ellie and I went over to it and cautiously peeped in through the flap. It was quite light in the tiny tent, for the moon was full, and I immediately saw that John was not within. The tent was rather smelly. Shirts and socks were lying in a terrible muddle.

  Just as I turned away, a livery doublet caught my eye. It was poking out from beneath John's straw mattress, and in the moonlight that flooded the tent it looked as though it was in Sir William Cecil's colours.

  I stared at it, my heart thundering. I could think of no reason at all why one of the Earl of Leicester's men would have a livery from Sir William Cecil.

  Unless he wanted to take drugged ale to a firework master, and pretend it came from Cecil!

  In a daze, I pulled out the doublet and the jerkin that was with it. Ellie and I stared at them—there was no mistake.

  Something hard and heavy seemed to be bundled up in the livery. I unwrapped it, and found it was a chisel. I remembered that John had been politely looking after me in the maze—and then he had disappeared, just before the tail had fallen off the lion statue. And John had come in and found Ellie and me in the Banqueting House. Had he been in there previously, pushing glass into the softer part of the subtlety?

  I wrapped the chisel up again and pushed the livery put of sight once more. Ellie and I came out of the tent and just looked at each other.

  “Cor,” said Ellie at last. “What do you want to do, Grace?”

  But I still couldn't believe it. Could John have caused all those mysterious accidents? He had been near me when I mounted up to go on the hunt. But then he'd disappeared for a while.

  I gulped. Perhaps that was why he had been paying court to me in the way he had—to give him an excuse for getting close to the Queen through me.

  But why? Why on earth would he want to do such things? He was one of the Earl of Leicester's henchmen: why would he want to discredit his lord? It didn't make any sense. It couldn't be John because he didn't have any reason to cause false accidents.

  Well, if it wasn't John, that livery was still evidence and I wanted it. “Can we take that doublet and jerkin up to the castle with us?” I asked Ellie.

  Ellie frowned. “It's a bit obvious carrying Cecil's livery around … I know, I'll get a laundry bag to put it in and I'll carry it. Nobody will ask questions then.”

  So I stayed by the tent while Ellie ran over to the laundrywomen's encampment, halfway round the lake.

  I was just sitting in the shadow of the tent, twiddling my thumbs, when I heard people coming. It was some of the Swedish attendants, laughing and joking together as they walked between the tents. Then I saw John heading towards me, too. My heart pounded—what if he was coming to his tent? I froze, frantically wondering what to say if he saw me. It was going to be so embarrassing!

  But he went straight into his tent, picked up a bottle, and left—passing about three feet from me. Thank the Lord, he didn't see me. I think my leafy dryad costume and mask must have made me look enough like a bush that he didn't notice I was there.

  He passed the attendants—they were talking uproariously in Swedish and sounded quite drunk. One of them must have said something funny, because all the others laughed. And, to my surprise, John laughed, too!

  I stared at him. He was looking at the attendants. And I realized that he was laughing at the same joke they were—which meant that he understood Swedish!

  It was like ice-water down my back. For a while I was so numb with shock I couldn't move. I just sat there, thinking, John understands Swedish. He sounds English, but he knows how to speak Swedish! And that means that he could be working for Prince Sven. It could have been John that collected Sir William Cecil's livery from the Wardrobe, and then wore it to deliver the drugged ale to Rosa's father. And it could have been John who disguised himself as a merman and scared Rosa away from the fireworks—and all to discredit the Earl of Leicester, for the sake of Prince Sven. It seemed incredible.

  Moments later, I heard a rustle, and Ellie came out of the shadows holding her laundry bag. “What's wrong?” she asked at once.

  I told her what I had just seen and heard and she whistled softly.

  “I can't believe it,” I said, with a very peculiar mixture of feelings in my stomach.

  “It would make sense, though, wouldn't it?” said Ellie at last.

  “Yes,” I agreed miserably. “Yes, it would.” Because if John were really working for Prince Sven, I realized, he would have reason to discredit the Earl of Leicester. If the Earl, famous for being the Queen's favourite, fell out of favour with Her Majesty, then Prince Sven would have a far better chance of persuading the Queen to marry him!

  I knew I would have to speak to the Queen as soon as I could, but first Ellie and I sneaked into the tent, took the jerkin and doublet and stuffed them into the bag Ellie had brought. Then Ellie carried it over her shoulder, muttering about how heavy it was.

  We walked back to the castle in silence, while I desperately tried to think of another explanation for our discoveries. And then I remembered something else and stopped in my tracks: the day after the mysterious merman had caused a dreadful firework accident which injured little Gypsy Pete—John Hull had had a burn on his hand. He'd told me about it at the Banqueting House. He said he'd been burned by a poker while he was mulling ale for the Earl of Leicester—but mulled ale is something you drink in winter, when it's cold, not in blazing August!

  Ellie was staring at me questioningly, but I shook my head and carried on to the courtyard. There were a few gentlemen there, taking the air. But then a new dance started, a Volta, and they all rushed inside.

  Ellie and I crept up to one of the windows and climbed on a bench to see what was happening. There was the Queen of the May, still enthroned, chatting animatedly with Prince Sven, while Lady Helena translated with a highly amused expression on her face.

  And there was the Queen herself, still dancing with the Earl of Leicester. The expression on his face made my heart melt, really it did, and I'm not a silly romantical creature like Lady Sarah. The Queen was dancing enthusiastically, her eyes behind her mask snapping and. flashing in delight. But the Earl had no mask. He was holding up her hand as she did the footwork and his face simply looked happy—tender and happy. It made my eyes water and my nose itch, because it reminded me of the way my father had looked at my mother when he came home for the last time from the French War.

  I coughed and wiped my nose on my sleeye. I can't think why I was so soft—except that I was thoroughly upset and not at all pleased to have solved the mystery. Even though I thought he must have been using me, I still didn't want to get John into trouble. Traitors have a terrible death—they're hanged, drawn, and quartered. And causing false accidents— probably so that the Queen would lose patience with the Earl of Leicester and look kindly on Prince Sven—well, it had to be traitorous, didn't it?

  Prince Sven was looking a fool now, and he didn't even know it, for there he was, busily courting one of the Queen's Maids of Honour, while the Queen whirled and stamped with his rival not three feet away.

  The dance finished and the trumpets sounded. Sarah stood up on her dais, said a few words which I couldn't hear—for her voice is so light—and flung aside her mask.

  Everyone gasped and laughed. Prince Sven's face was a picture of fury and thwarted hope. I saw his hand go to his sword hilt, before he stopped himself.

  Sarah curtsied to the company and laughed prettily, then walked very gracefully down to where the Queen stood and kneeled to her, flinging out her arms to present the true Queen of Beauty.

  The Queen took off her own mask and there was another gasp. Everybody went to one kn
ee, including the Earl of Leicester. I could hear her words clearly, as she declared in ringing tones, “My thanks to all who played this pretty jest upon you, and my thanks to all of you for being taken in by it!” She smiled in quite a spiteful way at Prince Sven, as she went on, “Oft-times our true selves are best known by trickery, when one who claims to love cannot tell the difference, and another knows at once the true from the false.” At this, she smiled down at the Earl of Leicester, who was gazing admiringly at her. Finally she said waspishly to the Prince, “Alas, Your Grace, had you been more discerning of eye, who knows what might have happened?”

  The Prince listened to the translation—given by Eric, his secretary, who was at his side by then. Eric was looking even more miserable than usual, and the Prince's face was a mask of fury. “A pretty trick, Your Majesty,” he said through Eric. “A child's play for a summer's masque. My gentlemen and I vili now return to our tents.”

  And off they all went, which was extremely rude, since they should have waited for the Queen and her ladies to leave first.

  Ellie and I ran as fast as we could to the main keep of the castle and up the stairs to the Maids of Honour, our chamber. I leaped into bed and Ellie hid the bag of livery underneath and then bustled about the room tidying up.

  Now the girls have come clattering up the stairs, still talking and laughing, and Lady Sarah is looking flushed and happy after her triumph as Queen of the May. In a moment I will go and seek an audience with the Queen.

  PAST MIDNIGHT, AND SO NOW THE FIFTH DAY

  OF AUGUST, IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 1569

  I am back in the Maids of Honour, our chamber, and worried about John and what will happen to him when the Queen's Guard catch him.

  The Queen was not pleased by my news, but she was relieved that we at last seem to be nearing the truth. She called the Earl of Leicester in, since John was one of his henchmen.